


Sink like a stone

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cloud Watching, Drowning, Fjord's Backstory (Critical Role), Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Introspection, Nott | Veth Brenatto's Backstory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Veth drowns, and Fjord drowns, but somehow they're both still alive
Relationships: Fjord & Nott | Veth Brenatto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Sink like a stone

When Fjord drowns, he is swallowed by the ocean, the unforgiving seas clinging to his clothes and dragging him down, down to the bottom of the sea bed like a slowly sinking stone.

There is ice in his lungs and lead in his bones, and he tries to claw his way back up towards the surface, but the sea is unyielding beneath his fingers and the water shifts through his grip like sand. Not far, he can see the wreckage of the ship sink into the darkness, green-tinted flames still bursting like starlight above the water, shifting and dancing through the displacement of the waves.

As he screams into the sea for someone, anyone to hear him, and watches the bubbles float upwards towards the surface, he spares a thought for Vandran and the rest of the crew and hopes that they survived. That they fare better than him.

His body goes numb as his vision grows dark, and though he tries, he can barely focus through the panic in his system, fear pumping through him like blood. His lungs are filled with water, and he never would have expected water to burn.

The sea swallows him like the rubble of his ship, and spits him out just as easily, depositing him waterlogged on the wet sand of an unknown shore. It’s dark, and his lungs continue to burn even as he takes deep, heaving breaths that make his throat ache and his bones rattle, turning onto his side to spew saltwater onto the sand. It clings to his skin as he heaves, sticking to the wetness, and his bleary eyes adjust to the darkness little by little as he realizes that there is no reality in which he should have survived.

There’s a coolness crawling at the back of his neck that he doesn’t think is from the ocean, like his hair is standing on end and his body is trying to creep away from the sensation. There’s a dark spot in his mind, like a dark, omniscient presence, and he chalks it up to the lack of air for so long and the trauma of his recent drowning taking its toll on his tired body.

On the shore beside where he lay, gasping and groaning and freezing, is a black sword covered in barnacles with a wickedly sharp blade the glitters enticingly at him under the moonlight. He reaches for it with trembling fingers, and the hilt fits perfectly within his grasp like it was made for him. As if it was more than just a coincidence. 

It is a miracle that he still lives, he knows. He should have drowned. He _must_ have drowned, down there in the relentless depths of the ocean. He should have drifted to the seabed, covered by kelp and sand and sea creatures wanting to feed on his flesh

But still, he lives, and every breath feels like a blessing. Maybe some god really did answer when he prayed for them to save him. Maybe someone up there actually cares about him.

His grip tightens on the sword as he rises from the sand, his body cold and aching, his joins stiff and frozen. He spares a thought for the crew, for the ship, for Vandran, and hopes that he isn’t the only survivor of the merciless waters he has always called his home.

* * *

When Veth drowns, she is struggling under the force of clawed hands holding her down beneath the surface, innumerable fingers digging into her skin as she fights to the surface. The goblins are tiny and weak, but they are many, and they are angry. She fights, but they hold her there, and she screams into the pond she used to love and watches as the bubbles rush to the surface, popping like her breath means nothing.

Her whole body aches from the treatment. Her lungs from screaming, her neck from thrashing, her limbs from being gripped by surprisingly strong hands. She watches her hair floating around her, and it might have been beautiful if she wasn’t so afraid.

Through the water, she could vaguely see the outline of people, of the goblins, hunched over and green with their pointy ears and sharp teeth and hideous faces all leering at her as she desperately thrashes, and that witch in the cloak, waving her hands and chanting. Veth can barely hear her voice through the water, over her panic, over the goblins laughter, over her muffled screams and the heartbeat in her ears.

She thinks, not for the first time, of Yeza. Of her beautiful husband, the feeling of his hand in hers as they stroll through the town, his lips against hers as they finish up a project, his body slotted against hers in their shared bed. Of how much she loves him, and how much she aches to be back with him right now. She thinks of Luc, her beautiful boy and his stunning curiosity, so young yet so smart, and she wonders if he will remember her when she’s gone. She realizes then, right at that moment, that she is never going to see him grow up, that she is never going to hold him again or tell him how much she loves him, to rock him to sleep or hush him while he cries or kiss away his pain. She is never going to get a chance to say goodbye and he is never going to get the chance to know his mother.

Her last thought as she gives up the fight is of her family, of Luc and of Yeza, and she wouldn’t have it any other way as her lungs fill with cold water and her vision starts to darken and her heart stops beating.

The last thing she expects is to wake, but she does, floating face down in the water. She is alone, but she hears the chittering of the goblins not far away, and she rises from the river with a gasp. She isn’t sure what happened. She thinks for a moment that maybe they had left her, had given up and left her to die and that maybe she has survived.

But then she looks down at herself and sees that her skin is green and leathery. Her hair hangs limply around her shoulders in dark, stingy strands. Her fingers, long and knobbly, end in sharp claws. When she runs her tongue over her teeth, they are uneven and sharp, like dozens of razors. Her ears are long and pointed. 

When she forces herself, slowly and fearfully, to look at her reflection in the rushing river, she sees herself for the first time. Her big yellow eyes, her long ears, her sharp teeth, her green skin, her ugliness, her hideous face. 

She is no longer Veth Brenatto. She is not a halfling. She is not Veth. She is not the woman her husband love. She was just Nott.

* * *

Veth lays on the deck of the Ball Eater as the sun is slowly starting to set, Marius adjusting the rigging and Orly’s heavy footsteps prowling up and down the deck. Caduceus cooks food in the kitchen, and Jester draws in the crow’s nest as Beau swings from the ropes. It is a moment of peace in their ordinarily crazy lives, and Veth doesn’t even mind when Fjord abandons his post at the helm to join her.

He grunts slightly as he kneels, the result of an old ache. “That one looks like Caleb,” he says as he points up at one of the clouds. “And that one almost looks like Beau, expect it’s smiling.”

As he joins her, lying flat on his back, she points at a misshapen cloud that was mostly just a random cluster. “That one looks like you.”

That makes him chuckle, and he’s so close to her now that she feels it reverberate through her. He stretches languidly on the deck, the way Frumpkin sometimes does when he lounges in the sun, and he rests a lazy hand over his abdomen. Veth’s hair pools out beneath her, and it gets trapped under Fjord’s shoulder as he absently shifts. “You know,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said this to you, but I think you’re getting a lot better, you know? Being out on the boat. I know that you still don’t like the water, but you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it.”

“It’s just one of my many skills,” Veth teases, and Fjord huffs out a laugh. “But thanks.”

Caleb shouts up at Beau in the rigging, Frumpkin purring around his neck. Yasha stands at the stern, arms crossed, overlooking the passing ocean. Caduceus’s booming laughter floats up the stairs from below. And still, Veth and Fjord watch the clouds as the setting sun paints the sky in purples and oranges.

“It gets easier when you’re on the boat,” Fjord says gently, breaking the comfortable silence. His hands are still folded over his abdomen, his eyes fixed on the drifting clouds. The boat rocks beneath them as it's impacted by the waves. “I get it, you know? Sometimes, when we have to leave the boat and go scouting for something, there’s still this… this feeling I get, you know? This faint panic. It goes away rather quickly, but there’s still a moment where I remember what happened the first time. But on the boat, it’s different. It’s safer, almost, even though it’s an easy thing to sink.”

“I keep forgetting that you drowned,” Veth admitted. “You play it off so well. I always just think that you’re… normal.”

“I don’t think any of us are normal,” Fjord smiled. “But yeah. I guess that’s one thing the two of us have in common.”

Humming, Veth fiddles with one of the buttons on her blouse. “I know that we’re still on the ocean, but being on the boat still makes me think that we’re on dry ground. I can trick my mind a little bit. And a little booze doesn’t help to get me through it if you know what I mean.”

“I do indeed,” Fjord says. He tilts his head to look at her, and there is just something so terribly soft and kind in his gaze that she has to look away, and returns to gazing at the clouds. “But even without the drink, I think you’re doing better. Since we got Yeza back, and Luc, and your body, I really think you’re doing better. I’m actually sort of proud. For what it’s worth.”

“Well,” Veth manages, her throat catching. “I appreciate that, Fjord, though I don’t think that my husband would appreciate this kind of forwardness from you. He might become inconsolable.”

Fjord snorts. “Nah, he knows he hasn’t got any competition,” he winks. “You’re not my type.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended,” she says. Fjord is still watching her, almost like he’s trying to stare into he very soul and pull out the secrets that lie there, but Nott is very good at hiding from prying eyes, and she deflects one of the ways she’s learnt since being with the Mighty Nein. “If we’re in the mood of giving people compliments, I certainly think that you’ve changed as well, Fjord. For the better. You’re more willing to let people help you, and to lean on the rest of us. You’re letting us in and allowing us to be there for you when you need it. I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made, and the good man that I’ve seen you become.”

She watches proudly as Fjord flushes a deep red and turns away, staring back at the clouds and the darkening sky. “Well, thank you kindly.”

The silence stretches on for a very long time, but they sit there until the warm wind grows chilly and the colourful sky turns dark. Gallan is lighting the lanterns that line the deck. Beau and Jester have come down from the mast and walked, arm in arm, down the steps to their quarters. The silence is comfortable and familiar, and for once it isn’t filled with stress and provocation. It’s nice. It’s been a while since either of them have just… sat together like this, frozen in a moment of shared melancholy.

Eventually, Fjord sighs and sits up, grunting as he did. “I think Caduceus is cooking up a storm down there,” he says. “I think I might go help him serve up.”

“That’s a good idea. Caleb was talking about inscribing some spells into his books,” Veth said. “So I might follow your lead.”

As she makes to stand, he nudges her, and he has one of those goofy grins on his face, wide and dopey, but Veth doesn't think that he is teasing her this time. “I guess the two of us are honorary members of the Drowned Duo.”

“Yeah,” Veth laughs as Fjord helps her up. “I guess so.”

It feels nice to belong to something and to find such joy from shared pain and trauma.


End file.
